


Pickle Fingers

by P0pp3t



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: no beta I have no friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:40:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29933562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/P0pp3t/pseuds/P0pp3t
Summary: "You guys don't even eat it, it always gets eaten by Soldier's racoons or somethin'!" Engineer rubbed his chin. "You're not wrong- still! Food, wasted on your stupid idea!" Scout looked at Engineer, grinning. "Is this stupid?"He pulled out his hand and wiggled his fingers, covered in pickles.
Kudos: 6





	Pickle Fingers

**Author's Note:**

> School has been stressful, so I decided to get some ideas from friends. pepsi, this is for you :)

Engineer didn't leave his workshop often. He liked his place. Tools, trinkets and bed within reach, he didn't have to stay in the bedrooms the women in purple provided. Eating, three times a day, seemed unnecessary for him. So did drinking water often. He didn't have the time for that nonsense, with the piles of work-in-progress projects he had on his plate. Respawn always had his back when his body finally gave up, but he had to humor his parched throat or it'll bother him for the rest of the evening.

He slowly walked through the halls, the silence slightly lulling him to sleep. As he neared the kitchen, he heard a yelp and the sound of glass softly hitting the table. He stopped by the doorway and leaned against the wall. It was unusual how the lights weren't turned on. Although the moonlight shone from the kitchen window, surely the man inside needed a better light source?

His face shifted from confusion to disgust as he heard something squishing. It was a bit hard to describe, but the wet sloppy sounds gave him ideas on who's inside the room. Medic, Sniper and Soldier are the only ones who handled jars, with Medic being the most likely person to be up late at night, mishandling unidentified mush in a jar. He mustered up the most neutral face he could make, hard without the goggles, and entered the kitchen. 

It was a pleasant surprise to see Scout instead of the ex-doctor, although his relieved smirk arched down when he saw what the boy was actually doing.

"Scout, what is...?"

Scout kept his hand inside the jar, swirling it around. "I got a slight burn from Py earlier and doc wasn't in the infirmary!" He stopped, slightly arching his arm a bit. "So then I remembered my brotha', the middle one, tellin' me about pickle juice!"

Engineer quickly understood and glanced at the jar. He watched the hand swim in the thing. The Texan frowned even more, and here he thought he'd decide to eat some pickles tomorrow. "Son, out of everythin', why did ya go with pickle juice? Why not just expose it to water?"

"Well yeah, I did that, but it hurt afterwards. It was annoyin' to just, go back and forth, so pickle juice it is!" "You're wastin' perfectly good food!"

"You guys don't even eat it, it always gets eaten by Soldier's racoons or somethin'!" Engineer rubbed his chin. "You're not wrong- still! Food, wasted on your stupid idea!" Scout looked at Engineer, grinning. "Is this stupid?"

He pulled out his hand and wiggled his fingers, covered in pickles.

The Texan stood still, speechless. If it wasn't for his dry throat he would be howling with laughter at that moment, but he instead smiled wide. "Then what's next?" "I get to eat a snack while I do sum more stuff with Py." Scout took a clean bite out of a pickle surrounding his pointer finger, fully satisfied. "You're lucky I'm too tired to argue, boy."

Engineer took a glass from the cupboards and went to the faucet. The water was a bit cold in his throat, he didn't mind. While he drank, Scout already finished a second pickle and fished around for more. "I'll never understand your appetite." "It's bettah that way." The Texan chuckled a bit then placed the glass beside the sink. That'll be washed tomorrow- or later.

He glanced at the clock, 11:36 pm, and yawned. "I'll be heading back to my workshop. Both of you better be asleep by twelve!" Before he left the room, he stopped and turned to Scout.

"Good night, Scout."

Scout's reply was garbled by the pickles in his mouth.


End file.
